


Irresistible

by MorinoAthame



Series: Ivarr Fix-It AU [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, Drinking, F/M, Female Eivor (Assassin's Creed), Fix-It, Fluff, Oral Sex, Romance, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27667250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorinoAthame/pseuds/MorinoAthame
Summary: A night of heavy drinking sees Eivor waking sore and mind foggy as to why, though the reason soon becomes apparent. Ivarr is a smug bastard about the whole thing, and despite knowing she should, Eivor can't stop thinking about it. When Ivarr visits Ravensthorpe, he means to make sure she has a night she won't forget.Later, when she joins him and Ceolbert in Sciropescire, their relationship takes a turn.
Relationships: Eivor/Ivarr Ragnarsson, One-Sided Eivor/Broder
Series: Ivarr Fix-It AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050650
Comments: 42
Kudos: 241





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, it's been over a decade since I've written F/M smut. Here's hoping I remembered the logistics, lol. I was in a rush to get this up, it isn't beta read. I'm also still getting a feel for writing the characters.
> 
> I have so many ideas for this fandom, and so many pairings. I can't even begin. Eivor has so much love to give. The feels are real.
> 
> Also I am so annoyed at in game romance options/outcomes.

She woke up sore in more places than she liked. The drink had been strong and the company enabling, encouraging even. The last thing she remembered was… drinking while Ivarr regaled how many Saxons he’d fucked his way through; boasting at quantity more than quality. He clearly hadn’t been lying when he said he was never too drunk to plow, and he would take just about any chance he had to do it. If she recalled correctly, she’d questioned if he preferred Saxons because he couldn’t handle a proper Norse. 

Groaning, she rubbed at her face and slowly sat up, finding herself to have slept on the cold ground. The ache between her legs protested the movement. If nothing else, he’d taken her words as challenge and answered them with force. She had no idea how well he’d actually handled a proper Norse, but he’d given it a fair try. Or so she hoped. If not, that meant some other man had taken liberties, and while it wouldn’t be the first time she’d drunkenly had sex, she preferred to know who had sowed her fields. 

Not that she was sure having been fucked by Ivarr Ragnarson was anything to boast about. 

The sound of footsteps behind her caught her attention, but she was too busy trying to work up the will to stand to care about them. When they stopped beside her, she glanced up to find her brother staring down at her. “There you are, Eivor,” he was speaking with his normal tones but his voice thumped along with the drums in her head. “You look to have had a long night.” He sounded a big amused, and she would have glared if she felt like putting forth the effort. “Ubba seemed concerned what his brother may have talked you into.” 

She groaned again and fell back with a grunt. “Kill me and end my shame and misery, brother.” 

“Come now, Eivor. What could ever bring you shame? I thought you without.” He smirked at her. “We’ll be moving out soon. You should see to yourself and make ready your mount.” 

She couldn’t stop the pitiful noise that left her, but she’d deny ever having made it. 

A familiar laugh made her groan again. “Maybe she’s not up to a hard ride so soon after the last,” Ivarr’s voice sealed her doom. 

Sigurd was silent a moment, and Eivor refused to look up at him. Then, her brother laughed. He easily sidestepped the kick she aimed at his shin, moving well out of her reach. “You could have been bedded by worse,” he told her. 

“And by better.” She rolled over and pushed herself up to climb to her feet. 

“I’m insulted, Wolf-kissed.” Ivarr looked to be pouting, if she was any judge of his expressions. 

“All I know of the night is the ache left behind. You could be Freyr himself, or an inconsiderate brute, I would not know.” 

“He often thinks he’s one when he is generally the other,” Ubba joined the conversation. “Are we ready to depart?” 

“Eivor?” Sigurd looked at her, the question in his eyes. This was important, but he’d wait a little bit if she needed to. 

“I can ride.” She rolled her shoulders to settle her armor back into place then stretched her neck. “Let me dunk my head and we can be off.” The cold water would clear her mind. 

As she wandered off in search of water, she heard a sigh from Ubba followed quickly by an innocent sounding ‘what?’ from Ivarr. In the background, her brother’s chuckling could be heard. She wasn’t living this down anytime soon. 

Truth was, she was a bit disappointed she didn’t remember the night. As strong and wild as Ivarr was, and as agile, not to mention the ache in her loins, he had to be an experience. But she couldn’t dwell on it, they had a king to make. 

***

Ceolbert had been in Ravensthorpe a few weeks when they got an unexpected visit from Ivarr. Evort wasn’t too surprised. The Ragnarsson was fond of the boy quite a bit, even if he may never admit it. She smiled as Ivarr cuffed the boy in greeting then fussed at him in his own unique way. The two were like a father in son in many regards. 

She left them to spend the afternoon together, Ivarr trying to teach Ceolbert swordplay and more with a bow. The boy was tired when they settled in the long house, and he only ate a full meal because Ivarr urged him into it, in a rather antagonistic way. 

“Boy has a lot left to learn.” Ivarr commented once the lad had begged off to sleep. 

Eivor couldn’t disagree. “He is a strong, clever lad. All he needs is time to get there.” She took a drink of her mead. 

“He doesn’t have time.” Ivarr insisted, tone rough and forceful. “He’s son to a king.” 

“Aye,” she agreed. “We will protect him until he can protect himself, teach him until he has learned all that we know.” 

The older man grunted as he downed his own drink, but he didn’t argue. Whatever his opinion on the matter, Eivor was certain that Ivarr would always look out for Ceolbert. 

For several minutes, they drank in silence. Then Ivarr set his tankard down, the sound loud in the relative quiet of the longhouse. His eyes were locked on Eivor with no small amount of intensity. 

She blinked at him, feeling a bit confused at the attention. It was always hard to figure out what was going on in the man’s head, until he decided to tell you. “What?” Slowly, she lowered her own tankard. “I spill some on me?” She looked down at herself. 

“Do you have your own room or live in the barracks?” He asked, the question unexpected and not at all enlightening. 

“What?” She repeated. Why would he care to know where she slept? What crazy thing was he planning now? 

“I plan to make you remember me plowing you, Wolf-kissed,” came his blunt answer, his mouth twisting into a smile that was all teeth. 

Eivor was glad she wasn’t taking a drink. Ignoring the shudder that raced down her spine, and the blossom of arousal in her sex, she stared at him as impassively as she could muster. “Ambitious.” 

He smirked at her, cocksure as always. “You’ll not be able to walk nevermind ride when I’m through with you.” His tone was boastful, and his voice carried enough to draw a few looks from around the room. 

Ignoring the stares of the others, one of which was Randvi, Eivor considered her options. Somehow, she was certain this was a bad idea, but she couldn’t quite think of why, especially not with him staring at her with such hunger and surety. She felt naked before him, and the thought of him standing over her, all muscle and that intense fire that burned in him focused on her body… How could she ever think to rebuff him. She’d thought of that drunken night, wondered what had happened, and had dreamed vividly of what it may have been. They hadn’t even left the table and reality was paling in comparison to thought. 

With a roll of her shoulders and a calming breath, she braced her hands on the table and pushed herself to her feet. “Alright, Ragnarson. Let us see which is bigger, your mouth or your cock.” Her voice was no less loud than his own had been. 

He barked out a laugh. “You’ll be praising both by the end, Wolf-kissed.” Standing, he sauntered after her as she led him toward her room. 

“I’m not to be disturbed, Randvi. I leave everything to you for the night.” She waved a vague gesture toward the other woman, who looked equal parts horrified and concerned. 

Inside her room, Mouse rose to his feet and walked over to receive a pat to his head. He then eyed the man behind her, giving a soft growl in Ivarr’s direction. 

“Easy, Mouse. You don’t need to defend my honor just yet, my boy.” She tugged gently on one of his ears. “Now be a good boy and guard the door.”

The wolf gave a huff but made his way outside the room with a final warning growl at the man. Ivarr growled back, making Eivor shake her head as she walked further into the room. 

She’d barely begun to turn to face Ivarr when she found herself shoved up against a beam near the foot of her bed. The air rushed out of her with force, his mouth descending onto hers before she could catch it back again. His hands, large and strong, grabbed her thighs, pulling her legs open as he lifted her higher up the wood at her back. 

She rubbed up against him as his body pressed into hers, sliding against the armor hiding away his strong midriff. Her mouth fought back against his, the sounds of their teeth clacking mingling with the wet slide of their tongues. It was frenzied and raw, and Eivor felt her head spinning as she gripped Ivarr’s head between her hands to try to steady herself as much as urge him on. 

One of his hands pushed its way up her thigh and side, grabbing the end of her braid and winding it around his hand. A tug pulled her mouth back from his so that his teeth could attack her throat. She moaned as he bit his way down one side then up the other side, no doubt leaving many red marks in his wake. 

“Are you wet for me, Wolf-kissed?” He hissed into her ear, palming her crotch with the hand not holding her hair. She rocked herself against it, head tossed back and another moan reverberating through her. “I’m going to bury myself in you, make you scream.” 

“Then get on with it,” she growled, kicking him in the ass with the heel of one foot. 

Ivarr laughed and sealed his mouth over hers again before abruptly pulling away and tossing her onto her bed. “Skin. I’ll not fuck you with your leathers still on.” 

Panting, Eivor propped herself up on her elbows and stared at him. “And will I get to feast my eyes upon you, Ivarr Ragnarsson, or have you suddenly grown shy?” 

“Don’t think I missed the way your eyes feasted upon the flesh you could see the first time we met.” He smirked, making no move see himself unclothed. 

She could remember, seeing him slick with sweat and his torso bare. There’d been a very brief urge to lick the lines of his tattoos before she got control of herself. “I won’t deny it.” She sat up and pulled one foot up to rest on the bed, undoing the armor and lacings that held it in place. 

He watched her, crossing his arms. His gaze was intense, and she felt like a lemming before a lynx. Eivor was not often intimidated; few in life had ever been able to do so. Mostly, the only one she’d back down from or for was Sigurd. But she could not deny the way her body trembled at the idea of being at Ivarr’s mercy. 

Moving on to her other boot, she focused on the task at hand. Once her feet and hands were bare, she stood and removed first her cloak then undid the fastenings of her armor until she was left in nothing by the binding around her chest. When she reached for her pants, however, Ivarr growled, drawing her attention back to him. 

His gaze was hot and heavy. “Leave them. Remove the binding.” 

Eivor lifted a brow at his bossiness, but she did as he wanted. The air of the room was cool on her breasts, and between that and her arousal, the nipples were drawn into tight buds. She reached one hand up, cupping the breast and circling her thumb along the dusky flesh. While her breasts were not very large, she’d never had complaints, and the way that Ivarr’s gaze was fixated on her chest, it didn’t seem she was going to anytime soon. 

Raising her hand, she sucked on her thumb, drawing it from her mouth with a wet popping sound before again drawing it along her nipple. The air cooled on the saliva, drawing a small breathy sound from her throat. She ached to have Ivarr’s mouth at her breast, drawing her lower lip between her teeth as she twisted the bud of her nipple. 

“You know how to inspire men, Wolf-kissed.” He said as he reached down to adjust himself in his leathers. “Perhaps you could put that mouth to better use.” 

“I hope you do not intend for me to do all the work.” She rose onto her knees on the bed and beckoned him toward her with the crook of her finger. 

“Not to worry. I’ll do the heavy lifting.” He stepped over to her. 

“You really are an arse.” She pulled him in for a kiss. There was no less teeth and tongue, but this time the pace was slower as she busied her fingers with uncovering as much of his skin as possible. 

Ivarr let her divest him until he stood with his pants halfway down his legs and his boots still on. The rest of his skin was free for her touch, and touch she did. Laying her tongue flat his chest, she drew it first up then down his torso. “You are hard enough to drive nails.” She spoke against his chest, a hand wrapping around his cock and stroking the impressive girth with a firm grip. 

“The only thing I plan to drive is your wet cunt.” He took hold of her braid much as he had before and pushed her head down where he wanted it. “And your pretty little mouth.” 

Eivor braced her hands on his hips, bent over awkwardly as she opened her mouth to him. He didn’t seem to want to be teased, pushing straight passed teeth and tongue as deep as he could possibly go. She choked as he hit the back of her throat, but he was not deterred. He pulled her back then thrust up into her mouth again. It was rough, she’d likely be hoarse the next day, but she burned with arousal all the same. Not many men had the audacity to manhandle her so. Fewer still were those that she’d even consider allowing. 

Just when she thought her throat and jaw could take no more, he pulled his cock free of her mouth and shoved her back on the bed. Pants still around his knees, he fell upon her, mouth biting and sucking at one pert breast while the other was engulfed under the grip of one hand. 

She tossed her head back and moaned, hooking one leg around his ribs and pressing herself up against his stomach. She wanted friction, much more than was offered in such a position, and frustrated she clawed at his shoulders to get him to give her more. 

He laughed against her chest. “Leaving your mark, are you?” He bit at her breast again. “Is there something else you want?” His hand left her breast to push the heel of his palm into her. “I can feel how hot you are through your clothes, Wolf-kissed. So eager to have my cock in you.” 

“Yes, now get on with it,” she growled at him, glaring for all she was worth. 

He leaned his head back and smirked down at her, that insufferable cocksure look that infuriated her and aroused her at the same time. “Not yet. I believe I promised to have you praising more than my cock when all was said and done.” 

By the gods how could he even think to remember that. He was driving her mad with frustration, and not all of it was sexual. But if he wanted to put his mouth to such use, she wasn’t going to argue. She pressed herself up against his hand again, grinding against it. “Then you need to try harder.” 

Ivarr chuckled and shifted his weight onto his knees so his hands were free to pull her hips up. He pressed his face between her legs, breathing in deep. He growled and rubbed his nose against her. 

She felt her blood burn through her. “Ivarr…” 

With another growl, he practically ripped her pants and undergarment down her legs and tossed them aside without care. He bent back down and pressed his mouth to her, the flat of his tongue taking one long swipe up her cunt before flicking the tip over the bud there. 

Her back arched and she dug her heels into the bed, a whimper tearing itself out of her throat. When his tongue dug into her folds, licking the wetness up like a man dying of thirst, she practically keened and reached down to grip his hair with her hand. He only seemed encouraged to drive her into a greater frenzy, and she ground herself down against his face in mindless arousal. 

He didn’t complain as she rode his tongue, it lapping against the silken folds of her sex as best he could when she wasn’t holding still. And when used his hands to shift the angle, grazing his teeth over her clit, she cried out as her body tensed and quaked. 

Ivarr forced her grip to loosen on his head, so that he could pull his face from between her legs. He turned his head, wiping his face on his arm, then smirked at her. “I wonder what other sounds the mighty Eivor Wolf-kissed can make.” 

Panting and in a bit of a daze, she blinked at him. “You’ll have to work for them,” she told him. 

He laughed and pressed two fingers inside of her. “We’ll see about that.” He gave his wrist a twist and spread his fingers. 

She grunted and shifted her hips. “Must you make a challenge of everything?” 

“You’re the one that took it as a challenge, woman.” He twisted his wrist again then shoved in a third finger. 

She rocked down on his hand. “Get on with it.” She wanted him inside her. While her release had been intense, she’d rather feel full and stretched, have something for her body to squeeze. 

“And Ubba says I’m impatient.” He pulled his fingers free of her, slowly licking them clean. His expression was smug and amused, and she wanted to wipe it off his face. 

With a growl, she shoved herself up off the bed and flipped them over so that Ivarr was on his back and staring up at her. “You’re a cocky bastard.” She took hold of his cock, giving it a tight squeeze. 

“That I know.” He continued to smirk at her. “Plan to show me what you can do with a cock, Wolf-kissed?” 

“Yes,” she answered plainly, straddling him and guiding him into her. He really did have a thick cock, and it burned as she pressed herself down over him. But she enjoyed the feeling, rocking her hips as she took more and more of him inside of her until she could rested herself down against him fully. 

Licking her lips, she tipped her head back and savored the feeling of him for a moment. 

“Move,” he grunted, thrusting his hips up into her. 

She gave her own smirk as she rested her hands on his chest. Raising herself up, she set a smooth slow pace to start, but that only lasted a half dozen or so thrusts before she began to pick up speed and force. He fit her so well, rubbed her in all the right places. And she could have lost herself to riding him, but he wasn’t a passive sort of man. 

Eivor found herself on her back again, the older man unable to stay still, while Ivarr cursed above her and tried to untangle his legs from the twist his pants had them in around his calves. She laughed as he continued to rant as he struggled out of his boots and pants despite the situation. 

“I’m glad to be here for your amusement.” He groused as he settled back between her thighs again. 

She reached up and rested her hands on his shoulders. “You truly are an experience.” She pulled him down for a kiss, less teeth and more lips. 

Ivarr laughed against her mouth and deepened the kiss, thrusting inside of her again. The whole dynamic of their coupling changed from that point. The pace was slow as he pressed deep into her, and they shared kisses as she let her hands roam over his body and rocked up to meet him, her legs wrapped around his waist. . 

The pleasure seemed to go on forever and end far too quickly. When she found her second release, she wrapped her arms tight around his neck and clung to him. Her whole body quaked against him, and as he released into her she moaned and covered his mouth with her own again. 

He kissed her deep and hard. He drew it out as they both rocked together with little jerks of their hips, riding the after effects of their climax. When he finally pulled his mouth away from hers, he stared down at her without his usual smugness or cocksure attitude. 

Eivor cupped his cheek and offered him a small smile. “Do you want your praise now or later?” She asked. 

He chuckled and eased himself free of her and laid down on his back at her side. “I deserve praise now and later, I think.” He turned his head and smirked at her. 

She laughed. “Of course. Though I’m not sure you have kept me from being able to walk.” She returned his smirk. 

He hummed and looked up at the ceiling. “Then I will have to try harder in the future.” 

That she had not expected. She would have sworn this would be a one time thing. “If you really think you can do it, then I guess you will.” She rolled onto her side, facing him. 

He hummed again, eyes sliding closed. Blindly, he reached out and pulled her against his side, and again she felt shock. Somehow this had gone from a rough fuck to something else, and she felt her head spin at how quickly the ground had shifted under her figurative feet. 

This could never work, they were far too different, and had far too much pulling them in far too many directions. But, if he wanted to have something for a little while, well, why not? Life could be very short and very lonely. She wanted to enjoy as much of it as she could while she could. And if nothing else, Ivarr made things interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this chapter contains spoilers and dialogue taken directly from the game. As this will be a fix-it fic, there will of course be deviations. I loved the Sciropescire Arc as it was, but as a fan of Ivarr and Ceolbert, well, I had to do something.

Ivarr had stuck around for a few days, spending the daytime hours with Ceolbert and the nighttime hours with Eivor. He might have stayed longer if messages hadn’t come in from Ubba. One went to Ivarr, who had rolled his eyes and tossed it aside after a brief read, muttering about annoying brothers playing at being mothers. 

The other message was for Eivor. It thanked her for putting up with Ivarr, and that Ubba had appreciated the peace of having Ivarr out from under foot for awhile and knowing that he was someplace where someone would keep an eye on him. He hoped that his brother hadn’t been any trouble, and he wanted Eivor to give Ceolbert his regards. He also informed her that he needed Ivarr back, and to make sure he listened to the message he’d been given. 

Eivor wasn’t sure what power Ubba thought she held over his brother. Ivarr wasn’t a man who could be told what to do with the expectation he would easily listen. But, she would do her best to remind the older man of Ubba’s wishes. 

She needn’t have worried. Ivarr seemed ready enough to return to Ubba. On the night before his departure, however, he made good on his promise from that first night. It had been all Eivor could do to pull herself from bed the next morning to see him off. And the bastard had been endlessly smug about it. 

The timing turned out for the best, however, as a day later Eivor had to leave as well, off to East Anglia to make yet another king. She wasn’t sure how she became a king maker, but if it helped her people, then it was what she’d have to do. 

The king-to-be was lacking a strong voice but he had backbone and will to learn. These saxon kings were a bit soft, in ways, but Eivor could see promise in Oswald. His betrothed’s brothers… they were amusing, if nothing else. And it was fun to rile Broder up. And while Oswald hadn’t appreciated it, the fist fight had been great fun. 

By the time Oswald was king, he was a bit more used to the ways of the people he’d married into, and Eivor found herself feeling at ease and happy to spend time with Broder and Brothir. When the former propositioned her, she’d immediately thought to accept but found herself hesitant. Her mind slipped to Ivarr, who she held no strict loyalty to; they’d shared no vows, and she knew that Ivarr would never pass up the chance for a tumble on her account. 

Before she could answer, Broder seemed to sense her hesitance. “It was simply an idea, Wolf-kissed,” he smiled at her, but his eyes held his disappointment. 

“It is not you, my friend. I am… I’m not sure what I am, but if I find myself hesitant with thoughts of another on my mind. It would be unfair to you for me to accept; even for a simple romp.” She reached up and patted his shoulder. 

Broder gave a nod. “I understand. They are lucky to be on your mind.” 

“Perhaps. I doubt I rest on his as often, but he is not a man to think about such things.” She shook her head. “I am not even sure why I hesitate. He would not.” 

“Then he is a fool.” He gave a small half smile. “Come, Wolf-kissed. Let’s find the ale and drown ourselves in it.” 

“I like the way you think… Brothir,” she answered, teasing. 

He looked crestfallen at her words “I am not…” He cut himself off, most likely noticing the teasing twist of her lips and the dancing of her eyes. “That is not funny.” He gave a half-hearted glower. 

She laughed and clapped him on the back. “I thought it very amusing.” She walked with him to where Brothir was standing next to the ale. From there, the night soon became a wash in warm intoxication, spent in the company of new friends. 

Two days later she was back in Ravensthorpe. Ceolbert, she found, had gone off on his father’s wishes to the west. She would miss him, but she had other things to put her mind to. She turned her eye to Lunden, to find both an ally and to help Hytham with his fight against the Order of the Ancients. 

Stowe and Erke were good friends to have and Hytham was pleased the Order’s presence had been dealt with. She was feeling good when she headed for Oxenefordscire. The feeling didn’t last long once she found her brother and Basim.

She didn’t know what she’d missed but Sigurd wasn’t the same. Basim was acting suspiciously. And then they went out of their way to find a crazy woman who betrayed them. To top it all off, Sigurd was gone. Randi had to be told, and she had to wait to do anything about Sigurd until she heard from Basim. She felt like she was standing on the side of an unstable mountain, her heart in her throat and any moment an avalanche would sweep her away.

But she had to hold her ground, stand tall and strong. Everything would be alright. Even if she didn’t believe that, the clan had to. And they looked to her as an example. It would be hard, but she’d weather the storm alone save for what little support Randvi could offer.

It was decided that Eivor would join Ceolbert and Ivarr in Sciropescire. Quantford was full of tension when she arrived. She had to look around a bit to find them, though why she didn’t start at the longhouse she wasn’t sure; her thoughts were still a bit scattered.

She was amused, and not surprised, to find Ivarr attempting to… teach the lad, or perhaps just bruise him. “Ivarr, are you training the boy or just tormenting him?” She asked, able to find a little smile for them.

“One will lead to the other in time.” Ivarr answered her smile with a grin, which slowly shifted into a frown as he eyed her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he was thinking.

Having dusted himself off from being on the floor, Ceolbert greeted her. “Eivor, well met.” He looked between the two of them. “I am glad you’ve come. Our negotiations with the Britons have not yet begun.”

Eivor gave a small nod. “I will be at your side when they do. Is there anything I should know?” She crossed her arms, focusing on the matter at hand.

“The venerable King Rhodri is here.” Ceolbert answered, Ivarr scoffing beside him.

“Rhodri is desperate for peace, ever since we captured his sniveling brother, Gwriad.” Ivarr seemed proud of this accomplishment.

Unbidden, her mind went to Sigurd. She could understand how Rhodri felt. The tactics were sound, but she could see both sides of the situation. Hopefully it would help her with the talks.

“Sounds like a man coughing up snot,” Ivarr continued, “Gwriad ap Merfyn.”

Ceolbert gave a small sigh. “Rhodri waits at the church nearby.”

That the king was so close explained the tensions in the town. “Who speaks for Sciropescire in these talks?” She needed to speak with them before the talks began.

“The last ealdorman was killed in battle. Bishop Deorlaf is standing in.”

“Until we can get this wet whelp installed. That is his father’s wish.” Ivarr interjected, clapping Ceolbert on the back.

“I find the idea of leading a scire on my own quite… quite terrifying.” The boy looked nervous at even the mention of it. Eivor could understand, to some extent. Leading, being a good leader, it ruled your life.

“Ivarr will toughen you up, but watch your back. He’s a wily one.” She smiled fondly.

“It is always the same with me, boy. When things get too quiet, I throw daggers.” Ivarr was unrepentant.

Ceolbert gave a small laugh. “I’ll be on my guard.”

Eivor shook her head. “As future ealdorman, you should speak in the talks as well. But with humility, Rhodri is a king and will expect to be treated as one.”

Again, Ivarr scoffed. “Rhodri will want us to get down on our knees and sniff the rosy wind blowing from his arse. I know the man.”

She was a little surprised by that. “You’ve met him?” And he was still alive? Ivarr seemed to have no love lost on him.

Ivarr was becoming worked up, getting animated as he answered. “Met him, fought him. He gave me this knick here.” He pointed to the prominent scar on his face. “Maybe I can give him one back. Remind him some call me King Killer.” He smirked.

That sounded like trouble, not that most things Ivarr said didn’t. “It may be you should stay behind, Ivarr. That is not a recipe for a good parlay, or any parlay but those met with steel.”

“I’d like you both to be there. To guide me, to judge my fitness.” Ceolbert’s eyes were pleading.

She considered and looked to Ivarr. “Give us your word then, your blade stays in its sheath.”

“Eivor,” he responded, a bit smug sounding, “don’t make me laugh. We both know what my word is worth. But sure, I will let you do the talking… Probably.”

At least he was up front. And, yes, she knew what his word was usually worth. Perhaps she was a fool to hope he’d try a little harder for her and Ceolbert. But really, Ivarr truly held only one person first, himself.

“Excellent. Now… to the church, I think. Our guests await.” Ceolbert looked between them.

Ivarr had other ideas. “I need a word with Eivor. You wait here, boy. We won’t be long.”

“This is hardly the time to...” Ceolbert started, face a little flushed, before Ivarr silenced him with a fierce look.

“Ivarr,” Eivor, too, made to argue, but the older man grabbed her wrist and pulled her outside; it was easier and faster to just give him whatever he wanted, so she went along without fight.

Once they were outside and alone, he let go and turned to face her. “You’re not yourself, Eivor. Something is wrong.”

She frowned. As far as she knew, she’d let nothing slip. “I just wish to see this mess with the Britons done.” She crossed her arms.

He stared her down. “Try again.”

She sighed. She could argue, but he’d wear her down eventually. For as stubborn as she was, he was more than likely twice so. And… it would be nice to talk to someone. “A lot has happened since I last saw you.” She dropped her arms and paced away from him. “A christian heretic has taken Sigurd hostage, right in front of me, and I could do nothing to stop it!” She paced back then away again, back and forth faster and faster as she recounted what had happened in Oxenefordscire, every last detail. “I should never have listened to them. But, Sigurd wasn’t acting right and Basim was whispering in his ear; they were hiding things from me. I knew something was wrong. I should have _done_ something. That slimy cunt with her cryptic horseshit and smirking face.” She curled her hands into fists. “I’ll find her, and I’ll peel that smug look off her skull and feed it to her. She can die choking on it.”

As she paced close to him, Ivarr reached out and grabbed her, pulling her roughly into his arms. “Careful. You start saying things like that, and I’ll drag you off to plow you.” He smirked at her. “Bloodlust is attractive on you.”

Eivor shoved at him, not in the mood for his sense of humor or his flirting, but he just gripped her to him harder. He was a lot stronger than he looked, truly. To get loose, she’d have to actually hurt him. She settled for scowling at him.

He grinned and kissed her. “Such a fierce raven.”

“Ivarr,” she growled in warning.

“Hush.” He put a finger over her mouth. “Listen. If I understand, Sigurd is still alive. You’ll find him, if that’s what you mean to do, and you’ll make the bitch pay. Everything will be alright. Though, honestly, you’d be better off without that sauntering pole. He holds you back.” 

She tried to shove away from him again, angered by the comment about Sigurd. Still, Ivarr was being honest with her, not coating his words in honey, and his opinion didn’t come as that much of a surprise. For all that Ivarr cared for his brothers, it was clear he’d never let them hinder him. No doubt Ubba, especially, found this hard to deal with. Eivor sighed before slumping against him, the fight gone from her for the moment. “You don’t understand. Sigurd’s _gone_ and I have to pretend everything’s just fine. The entire clan...”

“I have brother’s. They may be a bunch of arseholes, but they’re mine. If anyone did such a thing to them, I’d tear the world apart.” She couldn’t help but give a small smile. He would do it; burn the world down without a second thought. On principal if for no other reason. “Ubba and I, we will help you. We will find Sigurd and make sure you can make this woman pay. If it’s as bloody as you say, no promise I won’t fuck you then and there.” He grinned ferally, all teeth. 

“I hope you are right. About finding Sigurd.” 

“Is that doubt, Wolf-Kissed? You are better than that.” He gave her a shake. “You are Eivor Wolf-Kissed. You are the Scourge of Mercia. You laugh at a challenge and grab it by the balls!”

She never thought Ivarr the Boneless would be trying to lift her spirits, to inspire her. But he was right. She was those things. And she _would_ find her brother. “You are right.” She gave a nod. “And some challenges enjoy my grabbing their balls.” She smirked at him. 

“Of course I am right!” He smacked her on the ass with a grin. “Now stop sulking. It doesn’t suit you.” He put his hands on his hips in his usual smug fashion.

“Don’t get smug.” She punched him in the arm. “Arse.”

He grinned again and pulled her in for a kiss. This one was longer and deeper. “I am who I am. Now let’s deal with Rhodri so we can focus on other things.” When his hand landed on her ass again, it was to take a firm hold.

With a long suffering sigh, Eivor shook her head. “You think of little but carnage and sex.”

“You say that like it is a bad thing.” He smirked and stepped away from her. “Now come.” He jerked his head back toward the longhouse. “The boy is anxious enough without us delaying longer.”

“This delay was entirely your fault.” She pointed out as she walked back with him.

He tilted his head as he glanced over. “I believe it was yours. Sulking like some doe-eyed girl spurned by her first love.” He pulled his hands to his chest and batted his eyes dramatically.

Eivor laughed. “Don’t make me punch that look off your face.”

“The plan is to deal with Rhodri then fuck, not the other way around.” He reminded her as they stepped into the longhouse. He did seem rather preoccupied with bedding her again, she noticed. 

“So that’s not what you were just doing?” Ceolbert sounded relieved. He’d been waiting just inside the door. “Then what were you doing?” He eyed Ivarr a bit suspiciously.

Eivor squeezed the lad’s shoulder. “Do not worry about it. Shall we go to this church?”

They headed off. The ride to the church was short, and along the way she wondered again if bringing Ivarr along was such a good idea. He wasn’t going to do anything but make this more difficult. But, the call was Ceolbert’s. Eivor was there to make sure the talks happened, not to dictate how… unless she felt she had no choice but to intercede. So long as she got the support of Sciropescire, which meant evicting the Britons one way or another, she’d be satisfied.

The one thing she didn’t want to see was for this to come between Ceolbert and Ivarr. The two had become close, and Ivarr might never admit it, but it’d devastate them both if they became at odds. Given how things started the moment they got to the church, it’d take one of the christians’ miracles to make sure things went smoothly. 

Rhodri and his captain were speaking with Bishop Deorlaf when they entered. The exact conversation was not clear, but she did catch the words ‘the king’s brother’ before Ivarr was already opening his mouth. She hadn’t counted on being left to do the talking, anyway. 

“The king’s brother is a moldering sack of cow dung,” Ivarr butted in, loud and unrepentant. 

Rhodri’s attention snapped to the smaller man. “You. I know your face, your stench. Ivarr… the one they call Boneless. Did I not gift you that scar myself?” Rhodri was a man who carried himself with superiority. He looked down his nose at Ivarr, unimpressed and sure of himself, smug even. 

“Ah! You did, and I mean to gift you a gash, you reeking piss pot. In your fat fucking skull!” He looked to be ready to really get up in the king’s face. 

Eivor threw her arm out in front of him. “Hold!” She commanded. “Both of you!” Her eyes looked from Ivarr to the king. “Now is not the time for keeping grudges. We’re here to smooth a path to peace.” 

“Peace, peace, peace! Not with this bag of Briton slop.” Ivarr sneered. 

“On that, we are agreed.” Rhodri sneered right back. 

Eivor felt a headache coming on, and she was glad when Deorlaf tried to rein everyone in. “Now, now, calm everyone. Good faith is all I ask.” For all that he didn’t do a very good job of it.

“You know my demands. Until my brother Gwriad walks free, peace between us is impossible.” 

Ivarr laughed. “He is lucky he can walk at all! Fell on his own blade fleeing from us!” 

“I will soon help you fall on yours.” Rhodri growled at him. 

“Husband, keep your head.” The woman beside Rhodri stepped in. “It is in our interest to find a way to peace. All of us.” It was good to know there was someone rational at Rhodri’s side. 

“First, my brother.” Rhodri insisted. 

“First, your head on a pike. Then the runt goes free.” Ivarr countered, and Eivor wanted to punch him. He needed tied up somewhere and gagged until this was done. 

Rhodri made to go for his sword, but his wife interceded. “Husband! No!” She put herself between the two men, either really brave or really foolish. Rhodri, at least, stayed his hand. 

The bishop had finally had enough to raise his voice. “Enough! This is a house of God! Let us take some few mintues to gather ourselves, shall we?” He looked at all those around him. “Eivor, to me.” He stepped to the side, and when she followed he seemed to deflate just a little. “I do not know you well,” or at all, but she wasn’t going to point that out, “but Ceolbert believes you a steady head. We need such a one.”

They needed far more than that. “It may be too late. I see the crows of war gathering.” She didn’t believe anything was going to stop Ivarr from killing Rhodri, even peace. 

“I have a hefty sum of silver. Speak to people here. If the silver will help one bring us toward peace, offer it to them.” He was desperate, and they both knew it. She couldn’t fault him. Silver _might_ help; Eivor wasn’t going to hold her breath on it. There’d have to be more to it. 

Leaving the bishop, she did make her rounds talking to this person and that. The queen and the captain of Rhodri’s men both seemed to think they could do something, but Eivor had dealt with enough kings to know that unless the word came straight from his mouth she couldn’t trust in it. Even then there was chance for backstabbing. Rhodri would speak only of his brother, and while Eivor could commiserate, she wasn’t about to. 

Ceolbert, who had been a quiet observer, had little to offer; she’d not expected him to. He did still have a lot to learn. So, she turned her attention to Ivarr. A shit storm was brewing there, as he railed and paced in the corner of the church he claimed, near a prisoner Eivor could only assume was Gwriad. “Ivarr, calm down.” She came to stand before him. “If peace is…” 

“Peace! If one more person says that fucking word,” he growled. “Is that what you think is going to happen here? I told you. I know this bastard.” 

“Aye, you told me. You’ve also made clear you’ve no interest in anything but slicing him open. You’d have us at war and be done with it. Convincing me that he’ll not make peace is the fastest way to do that, is it not?” She crossed her arms. 

“That doesn’t make any less true the nature of that man.” He insisted. 

“Why did you spare his brother?” The question had been on her mind since she’d learned of it. Prisoners weren’t really Ivarr’s style, unless he got to torture them. Torture for torture’s sake was all he’d get from Gwriad.

Ivarr snorted. “Ceolbert,” was his simple answer. It was enough. Ceolbert had somehow convinced Ivarr this was the better course. And if it also let Ivarr see Rhodri squirm, that was only a bonus. 

“A lot of trouble to help the boy when all you’re doing now is sabotaging him.” 

“What would you have me do, Eivor? Let the whimpering coward crawl back to his brother? You’re too soft-hearted for such a fierce drengr. It will be your undoing.”

“Perhaps.” She could accept that, though she was hardly soft-hearted. “But we have a tool. I say we use it.” 

He frowned at her, considering. “Go on.” 

“I know you have no use for puppet kings.” 

He snorted. “They have their uses, but even pets have teeth. They can bite you in the arse when you least expect it.” 

“Be that as it may, brothers to kings often have ambitions.” She looked over to where Gwriad stood. 

Ivarr scoffed. “You can’t be serious. He’s less than useless.” 

“Rhodri is unlikely to hand his kingdom over willingly, true, and if you are right, he won’t make peace.” Eivor reasoned. “If we eliminate Rhodri and install Gwriad, we make sure he takes the Britons and leaves and never returns.” 

“I thought you wanted peace, not war.” Ivarr looked thoughtful, though. 

“I say we talk to this brother to the king and see what he has to say. I don’t intend to fight all of Briton, or even Rhodri’s troops here if I can help it. It’ll take some work, but we get Gwriad to agree then work out the rest.” 

“You can’t trust him. He’s from the same poison tree as his brother.” 

She sighed. “Ivarr, please, all I ask is you let me try, for Ceolbert.” 

He looked across the hall to where the boy was. Ceolbert was watching them, for that matter so was Deorlaf. Both seemed a little suspicious and apprehensive. “Can you imagine the look on his face if he knew your plan?”

“You won’t have to imagine long if this works. Helping us see to this will be good practice for him.”

“War would be good practice for him.” 

“Ivarr…” 

“Fine, woman.” He growled. “Though why I shouldn’t just slit this piss pot’s throat is still lost on me.” 

“That had been your plan, hadn’t it? To kill his brother in front of him? _That’s_ why you spared him.”

“Eivor, would I ever do something like that?” He spread his arms wide and grinned at her, that cocksure toothy grin that was feral and smug and she found far too attractive for her own good. 

“No, never,” she replied sarcastically before heading over to Gwriad. 

Ivarr laughed as he fell in behind her. 

The king’s brother really was small and insignificant compared to his brother. He looked like Ivarr had, had some fun with him at some point, bloody and bruised as he was. “How do you stand with your brother?” Eivor asked, getting straight to the point. 

He looked at her a moment. “My brother loves me well. Yet he can be slow and stubborn. Were I king, I’d have played this quite differently.” She found it odd he’d mention if he were king. This one might have been slight of body, not strong and fierce like his brother, but he seemed smarter, sharper. He seemed a bit weasley, too. 

“What if you had the chance?” If he wanted to get straight to it, then so would she. 

“At the crown?” He shifted on his feet and gave a faint smile. “I would leap at the chance to rule. But a man needs wealth to bring down a king. Nobles must be bought, you understand.” It was also interesting he seemed to know she had a hefty sum of silver hanging from her belt. He’d been observing the room, closely.

“And if we were able to get you this wealth?” 

“Under what terms?” 

“Knock Rhodri from his throne, withdraw all Briton soldiers from Sciropescire, and never again threaten this border.” 

“If you speak true, I would make that bargain gladly.” 

“The love your brother has for you is not so equally shared.” Ivarr commented, sounding far too amused. 

“Do not pretend you would not sell out your brother for recognition, Dane. You both would do the same.” Gwriad sneered. 

Eivor glared at him and opened her mouth but Ivarr put his hand on her arm. “Perhaps we would.” He shrugged. “Perhaps not. What matters is what you do, coward.”

“This war serves no one, least of all the Briton people. If I were to return with silver and peace, the nobles would flock to my side.” 

“But first we must deal with your brother.” Eivor reminded him. 

“I would have you not kill him, but there is no way he would give up the throne if he still breathes.” Gwriad looked behind them. “Allow me to go with him and I will make sure you and your troops can get into the castle so you might deal with him. I will send word to you as soon as all is prepared.”

“How can we trust this sackless piece of pig’s shit?” Ivarr questioned Eivor.

“It is simple.” She stepped up close to Gwriad, the blade on her arm extended and pressed up under his chin. “We impress upon him the ease with which I will split him from stones to tongue should he go back on his word. He may think himself safe behind heavy walls, but where an army cannot enter, a single person often goes unnoticed. I have become very good at slipping by unseen. There may not be as much honor in it, but for my clan and to uphold my oaths, I will do whatever it takes.” 

The king’s brother swallowed and dared to give a slight nod. “Consider me duly impressed.” He rasped out. 

Eivor retracted the blade and smirked. “Good.” She reached for the silver on her belt and dropped it into his hand. “Make sure the impression lasts.” When he gave a nod that he would, she turned to face Ivarr. 

The older man grabbed her hip and pulled her into him, smirking. “You have no idea how arousing you are, Eivor.” 

She laughed and shook her head. “Carnage and fucking. You are a simple man to please.” 

“You have the right of it.” He kissed her, hard and dirty, before pulling away. He then laughed and walked away to Ceolbert, who looked scandalized. 

Shaking her head again, Eivor made her way to the bishop while Gwriad walked freely to his brother. “It is done.” She told the man. 

“I do not know what miracle you have worked, Eivor, but if this brings peace, you have my utmost gratitude. Ceolbert is right to have such faith in you.” He smiled at her. 

“Let us hope so. We are not yet finished.”

“No, but the talking can truly begin.” He walked over to where the king’s party was. 

It was decided that the talks would resume the following day, Rhodri declaring he had to see to his brother’s health above all else. Soon enough, the Britons were gone from the church, leaving Deorlaf, Ceolbert, Ivarr and Eivor mostly alone. 

“I don’t understand. Why did you decide to let Gwriad go?” Ceolbert asked Ivarr. “You were adamant before.” 

“What can I say? The Wolf-Kissed worked seidr upon me.” He smirked, eyes roving over Eivor. 

“I don’t think I want to know.” Ceolbert looked embarrassed suddenly. 

“Do you think all we do is fuck when no one is looking, Ceolbert?” Eivor asked him, the boy going bright red while Deorlaf coughed into his hand uncomfortably.

“Ivarr has been… very descriptive of the time you spent together.” The boy answered, unable to meet her eye. 

She rolled her eyes and looked at Ivarr. “It is nice to know how memorable our time spent has been.” She’d been presently surprised by how… affectionate Ivarr had been since she’d arrived, and to know he spoke of her was also surprising. She found it curious, too. Ivarr did not seem the type. 

“I give credit where it is due, Eivor. Besides, you left scratches all over me. Ubba thought I’d fought a lynx.” He grinned. “I told him I’d caught a different sort of wild creature.” 

“Caught me, have you?” She lifted a brow at him. “And do you intend to keep me, then?”

He shrugged. “For now,” he answered, sounding indifferent.

She snorted. “Arse.” 

“All that aside, thank you, both of you, for helping us move toward peace.” Deorlaf told them then startled when Ivarr growled. 

“He’s apparently rather tired of hearing that word,” Eivor answered the bishop’s questioning look with a smile.

“Peace?” Ceolbert asked, sounding confused. 

“Yes.” Ivarr practically hissed. “So useless and boring.” 

“Do not fear, Ivarr. There will always be blood to be spilled somewhere.” Eivor reassured him. 

“The day there isn’t is the day I throw myself onto the nearest axe.” 

“I promise, if the day comes you have nothing left to live for, I will be there to give you a glorious and honorable end.” Eivor vowed, meeting his eyes. She’d not see a man like Ivarr take his own life. There was no honor in that. 

He stared at her a moment then grinned. “That’s practically a declaration of love, Wolf-Kissed.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” She sighed. “Ceolbert, Deorlaf, you should get some rest. It is hard to say what tomorrow holds.” 

“And what will you do, Eivor?” Ceolbert asked. 

She grinned broadly. “That’s a question I can say with certainty you do not want the answer to.” Her eyes slid to Ivarr. 

Ceolbert groaned and shook his head, walking away from them. 

Ivarr laughed. “Then let us find a place that won’t scandalize the christians. They don’t take kindly to plowing in their churches. Though the cries of outrage are generally amusing.” He gave his cocksure grin as Deorlaf seemed scandalized and quickly followed Ceolbert.

“Why am I not surprised?” She asked, heading for the door. 

“Because you know me, Eivor.” He followed after her. “There is a stable not far from here.” 

She smirked over her shoulder. “I’ve used worse places.” His grin was the only warning she had before he’d grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder. His hand took purchase on her ass as he headed off in whatever direction he wanted to go. “I could stab you right now and you couldn’t do anything about it.” She informed him. 

“Ah, but then you would not get to be stabbed by my cock, would you?” He sounded far too smug, the bastard.

“Fair point.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third chapter will handle the rest of Sciropescire and afterward.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, continued spoilers for Sciropescire Arc. 
> 
> So... the plan had been to end this with this chapter and go on to write an alternate version that held truer to canon. But I've grown rather attached to Ivarr, and I'm not sure I'm ready to write his death just yet. I do still intend to write the other version, or in the least write an alternate epilogue that alludes to what happens in the game and Eivor's/my opinion on what really happened. 
> 
> An epilogue will follow this chapter now, and I have ideas for one shots that, if they get written, I will post as separate stories, but I'll make this into a series if I do. 
> 
> On another note, I never imagined that romance would become a thing in this, but Ivarr had a mood swing and shit happened. So there is now fluff, and I really hope that it didn't make anyone too OOC. 
> 
> As usual, not beta read. And I am no expert on Norse customs, so I'm going off what little reading I have done when it comes to answering Ceolbert's questions.

Eivor joined Ceolbert and Deorlaf the next morning for the talks with Rhodri. The boy looked at her curiously. “Where is Ivarr?” He sounded anxious as he asked, glancing behind her for the third time. She didn’t blame him, an unaccounted for Ivarr was a dangerous and terrifying thing. 

“Yes, is it wise to not have eyes on him with Rhodri soon to arrive?” The bishop nervously gripped his hands together. 

She gave a soft laugh. “He might join us later. He’s… indisposed at the moment.” She grinned broadly. He had been left sated and sleeping where they had bedded down, and she had reason to believe he’d stay there for at least a while longer. 

“That is not as comforting as you might think.” Ceolbert told her. “But I am also afraid to ask what he is doing. I trust that you would not risk these talks, but Ivarr unsupervised…” 

Eivor patted his shoulder. “Do not worry, Ceolbert. He is where he can cause little trouble for this parlay. And as much as he may act so, he is not a child. Have a little faith.” 

“More like a rabid wolf,” the boy muttered before giving a small sigh. “If you are certain, Eivor.” He gave a nod. 

The three of them waited for a time for the Britons to arrive. When they did, the talks were tedious at best. Rhodri had his brother back, and he was bolstered by this. They had given over to his demands, and with the Saxons no longer having a bargaining chip, the king’s demands were steep. He seemed reluctant to talk of peace at all, despite the quiet exasperation from his wife. Ivarr, it seemed, had been right. 

Deorlaf sent the Britons off after a couple hours, needing to consider the king’s demands, and Eivor exited with them. She intended to make sure there was no trouble, the tensions in the air were thick and both the Norse warriors outside and Rhodri’s soldiers could start a fight. One of the soldiers bumped into her, and she growled at him. Before she could rebuke him, however, he apologized, a bit snidely, and followed the rest of his fellows. 

Once they were well down the road, she looked down to the small scroll that had been tucked into her belt rather stealthily. Pulling it free, she returned into the church. 

“Ivarr will be smug,” Ceolbert commented as she rejoined them. 

“Ivarr is always smug,” she reminded him, unrolling the scroll to read it over. “But Rhodri is not the only one that can get us what we want.” 

“What have you there?” Ceolbert frowned. “What are you planning, Eivor?” He eyed her with a small measure of suspicion. The boy was maturing well and would be a good ealdorman for Sciropescire.

She smiled. “This is a list of guard rotations, supply lines, and holes in Caustow Castle’s defenses, among other piddling details.” It would be enough to put a hurt to Rhodri’s forces, and to get into the castle itself. 

“Why would we need this if we’re in talks for peace?” Ceolbert continued to frown at her. She could tell his mind was already coming up with possible scenarios. And with Ivarr in the mix, she could see why he looked worried. Ivarr made no secret of his wish for blood. 

“Rhodri has no intention to make peace, not anytime soon in the least. If one king won’t, we find another that will.” She rolled the scroll up, intending to talk it over with Ivarr. “You, of all, should understand the tactic.” 

“Another?” He questioned further, his brow furrowed but understanding dawning in his eyes. 

“Gwriad. The bishop’s silver lines his pockets and so far he’s come through with his part of our deal. He gets the throne, we get the Britons out of Sciropescire.” 

“Are you sure this is the best course of action? Rhodri will not just give his brother the crown.” Deorlaf did not seem convinced. “There will still be war.” 

“If we roll the dice just right, we can keep from a great deal of it; that is where this comes in.” She lifted the hand with the scroll. “Should Gwriad be playing me for the fool, he knows what will happen.” 

“Yes, I imagine you were quite clear.” Ceolbert gave a small, fond smile. “You vikings are very descriptive and creative people.”

Eivor laughed and slid the scroll into her armor. “That we are. I should...” She began to say, needing to go find Ivarr, as the door to the church banged open. As luck would have it, he’d come to find her.

“Wolf-Kissed!” Ivarr’s voice rang out, loud and angry. He marched toward them, in naught but his skin, an axe in each hand. 

“Dear Lord,” the bishop exclaimed, sounding thoroughly scandalized. He turned red and averted his gaze while muttering what sounded to be a prayer under his breath.

“Ivarr!” Ceolbert was scandalized, too, but also reproachful as he glared at the Dane.

The older man ignored them both, as well as the gasping, fleeing Saxons. His eyes were set on Eivor, who grinned at him. “Ivarr, I was just about to come find you.” 

“Find me? It would be some search to find me where you left me, bound and gagged in my sleep!” He brandished one of the axes toward her. “I’ve skinned men for less.” 

“And to think, I’d had plans for you before I untied you. Such a pity.” She smirked at him, eyes dancing with mirth as they slid down his body. Flushed and muscles taut with anger was a good look on him.

He growled at her. “Woman, you’ll be lucky if I don’t…” 

“Clothes! Clothes, Ivarr. Where are your clothes?” Ceolbert cut in, voice raised. 

“Ask her!” He again brandished an axe in Eivor’s direction; she supposed it was a wonder he’d not thrown it at her. While she had taken his clothing, she’d at least made sure he wasn’t without weapons in reach. He’d probably used one of them to cut his bindings. 

“Eivor, please.” Ceolbert looked at her with such pleading, she couldn’t help but chuckle. There was still some pup left in the boy.

“Alright, Ceolbert, you win.” She pulled a bundle from her back, where it had been resting under her cloak. She tossed it at Ivarr, watching him intently as he dropped the boots and tunic then unrolled his pants.

“What would you have done if he’d arrived while the Britons were here?” Deorlaf was looking anywhere but toward Ivarr. 

She took a moment to imagine Ivarr arriving and attacking Rhodri. He’d be naked and bathed in blood, and that shouldn’t have been arousing, but she was finding that somehow Ivarr was so far under her skin most things he did were arousing. She almost hated herself for it. “It would have been entertaining.” 

“I’m glad you find this amusing.” Ceolbert said dryly. 

Ivarr, dressed in his pants but nothing else, snorted, but he gave a small smirk. “You need a bit more humor in your life, boy. You’re always so fucking sober.” 

“You have more than enough for both of us.” Ceolbert shook his head. “You rarely take anything seriously.” 

“Speaking of serious, I have word from Gwriad.” Eivor spoke up. “It is time to plan our next moves.” 

Ivarr grunted and pulled on his boots. “And what did the sniveling piece of cow dung say?” 

She pulled out the scroll and held it out to him as he tapped his foot on the floor to make sure the boot was secure. “Information about the guard, supplies, defenses, and the like.” 

He took the scroll, handing her his shirt while he read it. “This is a start. We should make plans to hit multiple targets at once. This will be a good test for the boy.” 

“If we hit the targets, he’ll know we’re coming.” She wasn’t sure that was the best idea. “All that matters is Rhodri.” 

“On that, we can agree.” He traded her the scroll for his shirt, sliding it on. “I prefer noise and blood, but as long as I get Rhodri, I don’t care how we get in.” 

Eivor gave a small nod. “Ynyr will be a problem.” 

“The Britons train their troops in Wesberie. Ynyr will likely be there.” Deorlaf suggested. 

“You could distract him to keep him from rushing to his king’s side while Ivarr and I go to Caustow Castle.” Eivor looked to Ceolbert. “If you think you are up to the task.” 

“I have taught you well, boy. Now is the time to use it.” Ivarr put his hand on Ceolbert’s shoulder. 

He looked uncertain for a moment then gave a firm nod, face settling into an expression of determination. “Whatever I need to do.” 

“Good.” Ivarr sounded and looked proud of him. In many ways, he really was a father to the boy. “As for you,” he turned to Eivor, one of the axes back in his hand. “We’ll see who is bound and gagging on my…” 

“Ivarr, please, we’re in a  _ church. _ ” 

The older man huffed and put the axe away. “Your god is so  _ boring _ , Ceolbert. How do you stand it?” 

Ceolbert just sighed and shook his head. 

“I believe he finds it easier to not think about all the ways we sin against his faith.” Eivor gave a small smile, patting Ceolbert on the shoulder. 

“Bah!” Ivarr scoffed and headed for the door. “I need meat and mead.” 

“I do find it hard to understand some things.” Ceolbert commented to her. “Like the way you lie with one another but are not married, not even committed to be.” 

“I am not sure how to explain it that you would.” 

“Does marriage mean nothing to your people?” He asked, and she was always glad when someone wanted to learn about their culture instead of just outright condemn it. 

“Of course. Though most often marriage is about forming a bond between families more than between the two directly involved. My brother’s marriage is such, though they have learned to care for one another, in their own ways. I wonder, though, if they will ever have children.” If they didn’t, it almost defeated the purpose. What good was Randvi to Sigurd if she bore him no heirs?

“Ivarr has mentioned more than once he and his brothers have different mothers. Is that common?” His curiosity had drawn Deorlaf back to their side, and the bishop looked as curious as Ceolbert. 

“His father had more than one wife, by my understanding, though not at the same time. Our men have one wife at a time, though that doesn’t keep the men from finding themselves in other beds, I will admit.”

“And that is not frowned upon?” Deorlaf asked. 

“As I said, marriage is about bonds between families and clans, not husband and wife. For most, it is a matter of proliferation. Men want sons to carry on their name and to bolster their warbands, to continue their sagas.”

“Even bastard children?” Ceolbert asked. It was a good question, coming from the son of a king. Ceolbert had grown up familiar with the ways of nobles even before his father was such. 

“You come from your father’s seed no matter what ground you’re planted in.” 

“So, it would not matter if, say, you gave Ivarr children, unwed as you are. They would still be his heirs, even if he were to marry another and have children there.” 

She laughed. “Ivarr? Marry?” The idea of it was rather ridiculous, as much so as her having a child. “It would not and they would, though I have no intention of bearing children anytime soon.” And she doubted it’d be with Ivarr. They were having their fun, and as attached as she was becoming to the older man, she had no doubts their roads would eventually part. She ignored how that notion pained her.

“As often as you… that is to say you both frequently… How did you put it? He plants quite a lot of seed...” Ceolbert was as red as blood and wouldn’t meet her gaze. 

Eivor laughed again and clapped him on the back. “He does, though not always  _ in the ground _ .”    


“Good Lord,” Ceolbert muttered, covering his face with his hand. “You have little concept of too much information, either one of you.” 

“And you are far too easily scandalized for one your age, Ceolbert. I’d think so much time with Ivarr would be helping with that.” 

He grimaced as he lowered his hand. “He has often suggested… things, in quite colorful ways. But I will wait until I am wed, if it’s all the same.” 

She shrugged. “To each their own, but he is right, your religion is boring. Piety is all well and good, but do not be such a puppet to your faith that you forget to live.”

“Does your faith not define you?” Deorlaf questioned. 

“Our fate is already woven. Whatever we do, our lives will turn out as they are meant to do. We honor our gods, but we do not fear them, not as you do. It is not purity but honor that dictates our end beyond this world.” She tried to explain. 

“So a murderer and an innocent child are as equals?” He pressed, and she could tell he was trying to understand but also found the notion of their way of life hard to fathom. 

“No, of course not. What honor is their in murder, but our definitions of what is murder likely differ.” She shook her head. “We are different, think and see things differently, but we are all just people, trying to live in this mad world. I do not begrudge you your beliefs, couldn’t care less who you pray to, how or why. I do not understand why so many Christians begrudge us ours.” 

Deorlaf had no answer for her and gave a slight shake of his head, his expression apologetic. “Know that while I do not condone or understand your ways, you have a friend in me, Eivor.” 

“I always welcome new friends.” She gave a small smile. “Now, I should go find Ivarr so that we might plan what to do about Rhodri.” She gave them a nod and went off in search of the Dane. 

He saw her first. “Eivor!” His voice carried to her and she followed the sound with her eyes. He was not too far away, near a fire pit with what looked to be chicken in one hand and a tankard in the other. “Join me, Wolf-Kissed. I doubt you’ve eaten.” 

She made her way over and accepted the tankard in his hand. “I thought you called me over here to eat.” She chuckled but upended the tankard anyway.

“And so I did.” He took the tankard and shoved a bowl of stew into her hands. “Venison, made last night.” 

“I might begin to think you care, Ivarr.” She teased him, moving to a nearby stump to sit. 

He regarded her with a strange expression she couldn’t read for a moment then turned his attention to getting them both new drinks. “Just eat your stew.” He sat down on the ground beside her with his own food, the tankards of mead sitting between them. “We should hit Caustow castle tomorrow night. Ceolbert can start the assault on Wesberie earlier in the evening. Word should reach Rhodri about the time we do.” 

“They’ll be scrambling. It will make it easier to slip in, but we’ll only have a short time before they’ll have doubled the guard and tightened the watch. We need to get word to Gwriad.” She ate some of the stew. “If they come for talks tomorrow, I’ll slip the soldier that gave me the scroll a note. If they don’t…” 

“We’ll have to find another way to do it.” He gave a nod. “I leave that to you, Eivor. I prefer a more direct approach than all this sneaking.” 

“Once we have Rhodri and Gwriad is in place, you won’t need to worry about sneaking.” She picked up her tankard. “What do you intend to do with him?” Ivarr could just gut him, plain and simple, but there was too much passion for Rhodri’s demise for that to happen. The older man would do something dramatic, symbolic. 

“I’ve got a few ideas.” He smirked, not elaborating further. 

“Keep your secrets.” She shook her head and went back to eating. 

“You are in better spirits today than when you arrived last evening.” He watched her, that unreadable look passing over his face again. 

She hadn’t thought about it, but he was right. She was not mired so deep in her anger and sense of failure as she’d been. “I suppose I am. This has all been a suitable distraction. Once Ceolbert is installed as ealdorman, I will return to my clan and search for my brother.” It was simple enough. Having a goal ahead of her kept her driven and focused, her clan needed her to do this, Ceolbert needed her to do this. Ivarr… he didn’t need her to do this, he’d be more than enough, find his own way, but all the same she was glad to be able to do it with him. 

He was studying her, something clearly on his mind. “What was it you said, fucking and carnage was all I think of?” 

She looked at him curiously, the question came out of nowhere as far as she could tell. “Something like that.” 

“Yet both are keeping you sane at this moment, are they not?” 

“Are you suggesting that  _ you _ are keeping me sane? Do you know the meaning of the word?” She smirked at him, teasing in a way that came naturally when she was with him, but the look slipped from her face as that unreadable expression of his grew more severe.

He dropped his mostly empty plate to the side and moved fluidly, bonelessly one could say, so that he was standing over her, hand wrapped in her hair to tilt her head back and face bent down over hers. “Give me some credit, Wolf-Kissed.” 

“Ivarr…” She searched his face with her eyes, trying to get some hint as to what was going on. Credit? For knowing the meaning or for keeping her sane? He gazed back at her, eerily silent, and she swallowed thickly, tense and anxious from the uncertainty of the situation. She wasn’t used to a serious Ivarr, not like this, and she had no idea what to expect. “Ivarr, what is…” 

“Ivarr, there you are!” Ceolbert’s voice easily covered up her soft questioning tone. He came into Eivor’s periphery, but she didn’t dare take her eyes from Ivarr. She felt very much like she had on the ice as a child, a great wolf standing over her with its jaws about to crush her neck. “What is going on?” 

Ivarr was still and silent another moment then let go of Eivor and stepped back. “It’s nothing, boy.” He turned to face Ceolbert. “Ready yourself. I’m going to make you as fit as I can make you to face Ynyr. I hope my lessons have stuck, or you’ll be painting the ground with your innards.”

“Right…” Ceolbert sounded uncertain, and his gaze darted between them a couple times. 

“Now, boy! We haven’t much time!” Ivarr snapped at him, sending Ceolbert rushing to comply. 

Eivor frowned and stood, squaring her shoulders and standing her ground. The Dane’s mood had soured rather quickly. “Ivarr, in the name of Helheim, what...” 

“Not now, Wolf-Kissed.” He turned from her, going to meet Ceolbert where he waited to learn whatever it was Ivarr had to teach. 

She fought the urge to follow him and press the matter. She conceded that making sure Ceolbert was as ready as could be to face Rhodri’s captain was a good idea. Whatever strange mood Ivarr was in, hopefully it would be passed afterward. 

Leaving them, she wandered around Quatford for a time before sitting to play some Orlog. It kept her busy for an hour or so, then she went to wander some more. She spoke to refugees and observed the warriors, she even ended up flyting and fighting with a man named Ove. She felt only marginally guilty when she practically beat him into the ground; her confusion, and by extension frustrations, with Ivarr manifesting through each punch.

Afterward, she took Ove for a drink, losing track of time for a bit. It was growing dim outside when the drink in her hand was pulled free and set on the table. Her arm was taken into a firm grip and she was swung up over a familiar shoulder. The world spun. Being upside down and having his shoulder drive into her stomach were not a good mix with her intoxication, and she ended up throwing up then and there. 

Ivarr didn’t seem to care, carrying her like a sack of grain. He was silent, and silent just didn’t suit the man. Even buzzed as she was, she knew that something was eating at him. He was the sort of man who voiced his irritations, all arms and motion, cursing every third word as he did so. She knew he could keep his secrets, but this, it was so new to her and she didn’t know what to do with it. 

A few minutes later she was jarred as he climbed a ladder, and from the sounds and smells they were in the stables again, where they’d been the night before. He dumped her off his shoulder into a pile of hay and stared down at her, his hands on his hips as he was prone to do. “Ceolbert has been looking for you.” 

“I wasn’t that hard to find.” She sat up. “Why am I here then and not speaking with him?” 

“He has gone to the bishop.” He reached out and turned her face. “You’ve been having more fun than just drinking. I hope they look worse than you.” His thumb brushed over her bruised cheek and down to a split in her lip. 

“He does.” She watched him carefully, starting to sober up some. “Ivarr…”

“Talk later.” He pushed her back down on the hay, straddling her this time. “You always insist on talking. You talk too much.” His hands began to undo her armor. “Action. Action says far more than pretty words.” He jerked her armor open and leaned down to like a wide stripe from the valley of her breasts to her chin. He nipped the skin there, a sharp little bite that stung but was soon soothed with his tongue. 

“You say a lot in both respects yourself.” She relaxed into the hay, watching him as he rose up and shrugged out of his tunic. 

“Tomorrow night, Rhodri will finalize a portion of my saga in brilliant red.” He slid his hands along her sides, thumbs hooking under her binding and pressing it up off her breasts to bunch under her arms. “Tonight,” he said, one hand moving to cup her jaw, his thumb pushing its way into her unresisting mouth, “Tonight, I have another saga to add to.” 

His mouth fell to her breast and she arched her chest forward, eager for the feel of his teeth and tongue on her. When she moved to tangle a hand in his hair, he took her hand and pinned it down beside them, fingers laced through her own. A second later, he’d pulled her other down as well. She could do little more than moan and shift under him as he bit and sucked at her. 

It seemed forever that he focused on her chest, first one breast and then the other, back and forth until both her nipples were too sensitive and engorged, the very air upon them enough to make her squirm. All the while, he’d held her hands down, held her body down with his own. She ached for him to take her, wanted nothing more than to run her hands over his skin and slide her tongue into his mouth. 

When he did sit up and let go of her hands, it was only to shift back to kneel between her feet and remove her boots, and then her pants. He pressed her knees up toward her shoulders. “Hold them,” he instructed. “Keep yourself open for me.” A finger stroked down the slit of her sex then back up again to catch on her clit. He pressed into it almost painfully, and she gasped and hastened to grab hold of her legs; anything to get him to continue. 

Smirking, he lowered himself down, tongue following the motions his finger had taken. He took his time. His thumbs spread her open, and he tasted every bit of her his tongue could reach before moving up to treat her clit as he had her nipples. All she could do was sob out her release, and again when he didn’t stop what he was doing. “By Freya, Ivarr, please.” Her body shuddered and quaked. 

He pulled away finally and leaned over her, pulling her hands free from her legs which fell naturally around his waist. He kissed her, moving their hands above her head and holding them there. The kissing was slow, careful in a way that she’d never been kissed before. She could lose herself to it. 

Eventually he pulled his mouth away, looking down at her. His hair tickled her cheek and she felt an urge to touch it but her hands were still being held down. “Ivarr…” She began, but words failed her. 

He kissed her again then rolled off her to lay back in the hay. He tucked his arms under his head and looked at the roof above them. “Deorlaf will be good support for Ceolbert when he becomes ealdorman.” 

Eivor rolled to her side and propped herself up on her elbow. “He will.” 

He sighed and closed his eyes. 

“Something troubles you.” She reached out to rest her hand on his chest. “Has since this morning.”

“I am not so simple that I do not have concerns or burdens, Wolf-Kissed.” 

“Of course not.” She frowned. “But you do not need me to stroke your ego. You know your worth.” But she had reason to believe this was to do with something else. “Ceolbert will be fine. You have taught him well, and he has a good head on his shoulders.” 

“His god makes him soft. There is nothing I can do for that.” 

“It is not just his god, and it is not a bad thing to have compassion. We could all use a little in our lives.” 

He scoffed. “Like Leofrith?” 

She sighed. “Yes, like Leofrith, but do not think I let him go because I felt sorry for him. What do you suppose he will do in Rome, when he finds the king that betrayed him?” 

Ivarr cracked open an eye and regarded her. With a snort he closed it again. “You can be as canny as Loki.”

“Perhaps.” She stroked his skin until his hand caught hers. He held it still against his chest,and she could feel the beating of his heart beneath his flesh. “You will return to Repton?”

“No.” The answer was simple and ready. “Not yet.”

“Where will you go?” 

“Wherever I want.” He let go of her hand and tucked his own back under his head. 

Eivor watched him a moment then rose up and straddled him. “Won’t Ubba miss you?” She reached behind herself to massage his cock through his pants. 

“He’s not my keeper, and I’m not his.” 

“But you are close, like I am with Sigurd.” She shifted down his legs so she could focus her attention on pulling his pants down. 

“Let’s not talk about our brothers while my cock is in your hand.” He opened his eyes and watched her. 

She chuckled and took him into her mouth, smirking around him when his hand fell onto her hand and began to guide her down over him. She knew he enjoyed watching as his cock fucked her mouth, it was a good look on her, he’d said, and she let him set a hard, deep pace. 

He didn’t indulge as long as he usually did before he was pulling her up to kiss her. “Ride me, Eivor.” He bit her split lip. 

Sitting up, she slid down over him, setting a hard pace as she gave him what he wanted. He filled her so well, and she lost herself to the rhythm of it. 

She made an unhappy growl when he suddenly rolled them over and pulled out of her, watching as he jerked himself off. His seed splashed across her skin in streaks of white. He then reached down to smear it over her. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was marking his territory. 

Again he fell down in the hay beside her. This time he pulled her into his chest then slid his hand down her back to push his fingers inside of her. She thrust forward, rubbing against his thigh as his fingers worked her to completion. “Sleep, Wolf-Kissed. We have a lot to do tomorrow,” he told her afterward, once she’d pillowed her head to his shoulder. 

Ivarr was gone when she woke the next morning. Dressing, she climbed down and went in search of him or Ceolbert. She found them both outside the church, the older man was giving the boy a hard time, like usual; Ceolbert ended up in the dirt. “Tormenting him again, I see.” 

“Eivor, good morning.” Ceolbert greeted as he climbed to his feet. 

“He’ll learn to keep his feet eventually.” Ivarr clapped Ceolbert on the back. “Scouts report a party of Britons coming this way.” 

“This early?” She frowned. 

“Rhodri is not among them, though it seems his wife and Gwriad are.” 

“Then hopefully I can catch a moment alone with Gwriad to let him in on our plans. The bishop and Ceolbert will have to keep the lady busy. Perhaps you should lay low.” She said to Ivarr. 

Ivarr snorted but didn’t argue. “I have things to do. Let me know when I’m allowed to come out to play.” His tone was mocking as he walked off toward where his men were camped. 

She frowned as he left, watching him. 

“He’s prideful.” Ceolbert commented. “It makes him difficult. As much as his anger makes him hasty, but he is not without honest feeling.”

She regarded him, not sure what he was trying to say. 

“Eivor, I have spent months in his company. He tells tales of his raiding, he speaks of his brothers and his father on occasion. He tells me about Denmark and Sweden, about the Western Isle. He speaks of your gods and the ways of your people. Not at length, not often, unless it involves killing and war, but there is a lot to Ivarr besides being a crazed butcher people make him out to be.” 

“I know, Ceolbert.” She saw so many things in him, but some of them she couldn’t be sure weren’t just wishful thinking. 

“Do you?” He asked, not looking certain. “The one thing he comes back to most frequently, Eivor, is you. I don’t even know if he realizes. And a lot of the stories I really wish I’d not been told, but he says other things, small things. He mentions things he wants to tell you or show you. He has this little pouch with beads and other little things he’s picked up here and there. I asked him once why he kept them. He never answered, but I think they remind him of you, or he plans to give them to you.” 

She stared at him, eyes wide. He surely couldn’t mean… “Ceolbert, do you mean to say you think he… that  _ Ivarr _ …” She couldn’t put it to words. The idea was so strange to her.

“Loves you? Of course he does. I’ve heard a few tales about his other… encounters. He is crass and indifferent about them. And I doubt he’d ever just walk up to one of them and kiss them. I doubt he’d follow them to their settlement and spend days there just to be close to them. I get you guys like to bed one another, but don’t you think it strange to do something like that when he could find it anywhere he wanted?” 

“He’s  _ Ivarr _ .” She felt like she needed to sit down. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think he knew until recently.” 

Eivor put a hand to her forehead and just stared at Ceolbert. “I…” She thought about the look he’d given her the day before, the way he’d gotten upset. Had it been defensive? Had he felt spurned? Had she ridiculed his feeling without even knowing? He was years older than her, had lived and done so many things. He could have had any woman, or man, he wanted. But Ceolbert made a sound argument. 

“I think I need to speak to Ivarr.” She said, she turned to look in the direction he’d gone.

“What about Gwriad?” 

“Fuck.” She had completely forgotten. “I will have to wait. The Britons must come first.” 

Ceolbert gave a nod and small smile. “Here they come now.” 

The meeting with the Britons went much better without the king present, and Lady Angharad seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. She spoke of peace, not war, but also cautioned that it would take some convincing to get her husband to agree. She asked for patience and show of good faith that for the time being they kept an agreement to pause hostilities.

As they got ready to leave, Ceolbert and Deorlaf spoke with her about anything the Britons might need, anything that might aid peace along or at least show good will. While they did so, Eivor took the time to speak with Gwriad. It was simple enough to give him the plan, and he agreed to help see it through. 

By mid day, the Britons were on their way, though it was hardly soon enough for Eivor. “Ceolbert, I leave you to finalize your plan for Wesberie. Ivarr and I will discuss it with you before you leave.” She told him. “For now, I must speak with Ivarr.” 

Ceolbert smiled at her and gave a nod. “Of course. I will be here or the longhouse if you need me.” 

Giving a nod, Eivor left the church to search out Ivarr; a task that turned out to be harder than she expected. He was wrestling three of his men when she finally did track him down. His tunic was gone and he was flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat in the sun. His grin was manic and his eyes danced with joy and fire as he took first one then all three of the men down. And she knew, right then, what she’d known for some time without admitting it to herself. She loved him. 

He looked up and caught her eye, smiling at her for a moment before bending down to grab his tunic from a log. “Eivor, finished already?”

“Yes.” She walked over to him. “I thought we might walk for a moment.” 

“Walk?” He looked at her. “Where are we walking?” 

“Just… indulge me?” She bit her lip, feeling the split there twinge from the pressure. It wasn’t going to heal if they kept aggravating it, but she would worry about that another time. 

“A walk then.” He motioned her to lead the way, pulling on his shirt as he followed. 

She had no idea where to go, and they ended up following the river’s edge until they were a short distance from the village. Finally, she turned around to face him. “Did you know I keep the arm rings from all my allies in a fur lined box on a shelf in my room?” 

He eyed her, head tilted to the side. “Should I care?” 

“I have a lot of things in my room, many gifts from allies. Bows and axes and pieces of armor. Trinkets and other things.” 

“I recall it was a bit cluttered.” He crossed his arms. “Speak plainly, Wolf-Kissed. Dancing about is a waste of our time.” 

“Did you notice what I kept under my pillow?” She pressed. She had put it there simply because it was a good idea to have a weapon at hand. It hadn’t occurred to her it might mean something more, that she’d chosen that one for a reason. 

“Eivor, just fucking spit it out. These mind games…” 

“This isn’t a game, Ivarr. Did you notice?” She stepped closer to him. 

“Yes, an axe. What of it?” He asked, sounding irritated.

“You didn’t recognize it?” She met his eyes. Really, that wasn’t a surprise. He’d only seen it for a moment, and she doubted he’d even really looked at it then.

He took a slow breath, one that spoke of trying to be patient. “I didn’t pay it any mind. It was a fucking axe. It’s a good idea to have an axe in easy reach.” 

“You gave me that axe, Ivarr.” She shook her head, smiling a little fondly. 

He frowned a moment, clearly trying to recall. “You mean that old thing I gave you when Ubba offered friendship with the arm band?” 

“Yes.” 

“You should have something stronger under your pillow.” Was his response. “Why would you even keep it?”

“At the time, I didn’t know. I think I found it sweet. And maybe it was a joke, but it was a sign of friendship.” 

“Sweet… I’ve never been called sweet a day in my life. Not even as a babe fresh from my mother’s womb, covered in blood and screaming to the world.” He shook his head. “What is the point of this? We have preparations to make for dealing with that great festering ball sack Rhodri.” 

“You are sweet, Ivarr, in your own way, and when this is done, when Rhodri is dead and Ceolbert is ealdorman… There’s a lot of things ahead of me, and some days I’m barely holding it all together. Until Sigurd is back where he belongs, I have the entire clan riding on my shoulders, and there's every other little thing.” She put her hand on his crossed arms. “I need someone to keep me sane. Like you said, Deorlaf will be a good advisor for Ceolbert.”

Ivarr watched her, gaze intense and mouth set into a firm line. Minutes passed and then he dropped his arms and wrapped them around her waist to draw her closer. “I’m more likely to drive you insane. And if things get boring…” 

“You’ll start throwing knives, I know.” She chuckled. “It’ll keep things lively.” 

He laughed at that. “Who wants to live a boring life, other than my idiot brother.” 

“I want you to know I don’t expect you to settle down. I would not change you.” 

He barked out a humorless laugh. “A little late for that, Wolf-Kissed. All this… declaration and feelings and other horseshit.” He grimaced, like he had a bad taste in his mouth. 

“Bad for the reputation, I know.” She smiled, placating him. 

He swatted her on the ass and stepped back. “We have a king to prepare to kill. Enough of this. Let’s find the boy.” 

“He’s at the church, last I saw.” 

Ivarr headed off that way, and Eivor fell into step beside him. When they found Ceolbert, they spent a few hours going over his plans, forward and backward several times. Both of them cared about the boy and they’d do everything they could to make sure he was safe when they could not be at his side. 

By the time they finished, they had their own preparations to make before they slipped off with only a handful of men to Caustow Castle. Gwriad met them outside the walls, leading them in through a backway he’d made sure was unguarded. They’d just come to the great hall where Rhodri was when news came that Ynyr had been attacked in Wesberie. 

Rhodri was enraged at the news, and when Ivarr made his presence known, chaos erupted in the room. She took out the guards while Ivarr focused on the king, who had spotted his brother and made the appropriate connection as to how she and Ivarr had gained entry. Gwriad’s head popped like an overripe raspberry when Rhodri slammed it into the wall before turning his attention back to Ivarr. 

Eivor had promised to stay out of the fight with Rhodri, but when he set Ivarr  _ on fire _ , she couldn’t help but rush forward. To see her lover laugh it off and the flames leave him unharmed was a marvel, and she’d be questioning him about it later, after decking him for scaring her so. 

It was enough to traumatize Rhodri, and soon enough they had the king at their mercy. The only problem was, they were in the middle of the castle and every soldier knew they were there. 

“Good thing this doesn’t end here. I have plans for this sack of lard. We use him as a shield to get out of here and go back the way that Gwriad showed us.” Ivarr told her. 

Having no idea what the Dane planned, Eivor only gave a nod and helped him haul Rhodri from the castle. A few times they had to stop to deal with soldiers, but the way was still mostly without guard. And she was thankful when horses were waiting for them; Rhodri was not light. 

From Caustow, Ivarr led the way, taunting Rhodri as they rode through the countryside to very tall mountain. And of course Ivarr wanted to go all the way up it. “You really are going to be boneless when I push you off this fucking mountain.” She informed him, panting from carting the king after the horses were no longer able to. 

“A little hard work is good for you.” Ivarr told her as he turned his attention to Rhodri. 

She snorted and crossed her arms. “Just do whatever it is you have to do.” It would have been so much easier to kill the man back at the castle. 

It shouldn’t have surprised her that Ivarr split the man open and spread out his lungs in the blood eagle. Though, in truth, it was also pretty pointless. No one was going to be climbing the rock to see it. “Are we done?” She asked once Rhodri was hoisted into the air, tied up in a grand display. 

Ivarr didn’t answer, looking out over the land. “In another life, I think this would have been a good place to die.” He said after a while, looking over at her. “And I couldn’t have asked for a better person to send me on my way, than you.” 

She frowned at him. “Even for you, that’s morbid.” She did not want to discuss it, and that was the end of it.

“Is it? You did promise me, Eivor. If the day comes…” 

“Today is not that day! Now let’s get off this fucking rock.” She walked away from him. “Ceolbert will be waiting.” 

Ivarr took a step and grabbed her arm. “Today or not, I hold you to that promise. I am not a young man, Eivor. The day  _ will _ come, if battle doesn’t take me first.” 

She didn’t want to think about it, no matter how true the words were. “You’re young and hearty enough. The time is far distant, and I will not speak of it any more. Please.” 

“But you hold to your promise?” He demanded, squeezing her arm. 

“Yes, curse you. I hold!” She jerked her arm free. 

He turned her to face him, hands on her shoulders. “I would do the same for you, Eivor.” 

“I know.” She reluctantly met his eyes, her own full of sorrow. “I know, and that means more than I can express, but forgive me if I do not wish to dwell upon the day until it may come to pass.” 

In a rare sign of true affection, he pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m afraid you are stuck with me, Wolf-Kissed, for many long winters to come.” It was a declaration more clear than any he’d hinted at before. He meant to stay at her side, to be with her, not just for the moment, not just for a few weeks or months. Not, seemingly, even for a few years. He had as good as said marriage vows, for all that she would never ask that of him. 

“I believe I will survive.” She smiled softly and kissed him. “But now we really do need to climb down from here and find Ceolbert.” She looked down his chest and arms, at the blood there. “And you need to clean off Rhodri’s stench.”

“And here I thought to press you down into a bed of grass and have my wicked way with you.” He smirked. “But if you really want to leave…” 

She looked over at Rhodri’s corpse then back to Ivarr, brow arched. 

“What?” He asked, feigning ignorance.

“Ceolbert, Ivarr. I know you want to check on him.” 

“Yes. I must see how well my teaching paid off.” He let go of her and motioned her to lead the way. 

Eivor did so. It was a pity he was with her, if only because she could have found a spot to leap from and cut the journey down short if she were alone. As it was, it was well into the middle of the night when they got to Wesberie. Not that it mattered, as the warriors were celebrating still their victory. 

“Ceolbert!” Ivarr greeted loudly, spotting the boy sitting outside his tent. There was a bandage around his head and another around his thigh, but mostly he looked unharmed. 

“Ivarr, Eivor, I thought to meet with you in Quatford tomorrow.” 

“We wanted to let you know that the Britons will have little choice but to retreat come morning.” Eivor smiled. 

“If they’ve not already fled with their tails between their legs.” Ivarr grabbed up Ceolbert’s tankard and drained it dry. Knowing the lad, it’d been sitting there untouched for some time. “Rhodri, the great prick, is dead.”

“As is Gwriad. Rhodri took exception to his brother’s treason.” Eivor sat down on the ground. She was feeling tired from the fighting, climbing, and riding. “It is good to see you well.” 

“My training did not go to waste.” Ivarr patted Ceolbert’s shoulder then wandered off to get more drink. 

“What will you do now?” Ceolbert asked Eivor. 

“Once you are ealdorman, I must return to my people. There is a matter that needs my attention, sooner than later.” She thought of Sigurd, and hoped that Basim would have word to her by her return to Ravensthorpe.

“And Ivarr?” He looked over to where Ivarr had gotten distracted, no doubt regaling the warriors with Rhodri’s demise. 

“I think he means to go with me.” 

Ceolbert gave a small nod. “I imagined he might.” He looked down at the ground, a tiny frown on his face. 

“I will not keep him from you forever. One cannot cage a dragon, and you are like a son to him.” She reached out to put her hand on his knee. “And I will not abandon you, either.” 

“I know.” He gave her a smile, putting his hand over hers. 

“You two look far too maudlin. This is a night to drink and celebrate!” Ivarr thrust tankards at both of them, keeping a third for himself. 

Eivor chuckled. “Yes. And here is to peace and friendship between our people, long may it last!” She raised her tankard. 

“Long may it last,” Ceolbert said and raised his own. 

Ivarr just gave his the tiniest of jerks upward before he was taking a large drink, making both of them smile and laugh at him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have ideas of what you'd like to see for the one shots, let me know and I'll try to work them in. 
> 
> Also, if you have any other pairings you'd like me to try my hand at and an idea for them, I'm open for Valhalla requests. Though, I will say that I do not ship Eivor and Randvi, have a real aversion to it for some reason, and I'm not sure how well I could pull off trying to write it. Not a huge fan of Petra, either. )Though that whole mushroom trip was AWESOME.) 
> 
> I have no real preference for gender when it comes to Eivor, so whatever goes with that.


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the first epilogue I started, it's not the second either. But the other two just didn't want to play along, and they were coming out a bit fanciful and very fairy tale happy ending. Which is all well and good. I don't mind endings like that, but I just wasn't feeling it. 
> 
> So here we are. A very short dabble into writing things from Ivarr's POV. I'll probably write something else from his POV at some point.
> 
> Spoilers for A Brother's Keeper.

It had been many weeks since Eivor and Sigurd had gone to Norway. Their absence was felt keenly around the settlement even as day to day life continued as though nothing had changed. Randvi kept things going in the place of their jarl while Ivarr saw to leading the raiding party; though there hadn’t been much need to raid. It was more to keep the warriors from being too restless. 

Ivarr was lounging outside relaxing, Mouse’s head in his lap, and dozing. It’d been a long day of training with the warriors; he’d gone up against Vili and Rollo at the same time just to get his blood pumping. It had taken him effort, but he’d taken them both down. He’d been reminded he wasn’t such a young man anymore, though it had been worth it. Afterward, they’d all gathered in the longhouse for a feast, one he’d not stayed too long for despite usually not needing any such excuse to drink and have a good time. Instead, he’d sought solitude, or as close as he could get with Mouse shadowing his every move; the wolf missed Eivor. 

He had just been thinking about getting up to go see what food had been left behind after the feast when Mouse’s head lifted off his lap and he heard the sound of his tail swishing across the ground. Curious, he opened his eyes and followed the wolf’s line of sight. He couldn’t see anything of note from his position, but whatever had the wolf’s attention was enough to cause Mouse to hop up and race off toward the river. 

Standing, Ivarr followed after him at a much more sedate pace. The first thing he noticed was the presence of the newly returned longship at the doc. Then he saw the tired jomvikingr heading for the barracks. Not wanting to seem too eager, he kept his pace casual as he headed into the longhouse. He was hungry anyway, and there was no reason for him to fuss even if he hadn’t seen Eivor in far too long, longer than he’d ever gone without seeing her since they’d met, in fact. 

It hadn’t really been of note, at first. It’d been just like any other time they’d been away from one another. But as the weeks stretched on, it had become increasingly obvious how much he enjoyed her company, how much she’d come to mean to him. It hadn’t been a simple desire to see her, it had been honest concern that she was well, that she would return. And while he’d known he loved her, he hadn’t really realized what that meant until she was across the sea. 

He was sitting at the table and eating when she and Sigurd entered the longhouse. Immediately, he knew something was wrong with her. The way she leaned a little to one side and her gait wasn’t as strong as usual. She was injured, and he frowned. If the injury was recent, then it was to be expected, but if they had come straight from Norway to Ravensthorpe without incident, then the injury was old. Only a serious injury would still be lingering.

She glanced toward him when he set his tankard down a little hard, but before they could speak, Sigurd was calling her over to the jarl’s seat. She frowned as she turned to her brother and went over. Ivarr wasn’t sure who was more surprised, her or him when Sigurd bade her sit in it. But they all knew it was only right, she had led their people from the moment they’d landed in England. 

Ivarr continued to watch as first Randvi and then others of the clan trickled into the longhouse. He ate his food and drank his ale in silence, watching Eivor as what was happening really sunk in for her and everyone else. And as the clan sang, he smiled to himself, proud of her in a way he didn’t know he could be proud of another person. He’d always wanted glory for his brothers, but had also always wanted it most for himself. This, though, to see her pain and sweat and blood pay off, he swelled with a pride he’d before only felt in himself; not even his fatherly pride in Ceolbert had felt like this. 

He turned as she approached him, straddling the bench he sat upon and pulling her down into his lap. He kissed her like he was trying to steal the very breath from her. “You took your sweet time, Wolf-Kissed.” His hand immediately went to where he’d guessed her injury to be. “What happened?” He felt her side twitch away at his touch before she relaxed into it. 

“Basim,” she answered quietly. “He tried to kill us both. He was raving, and the things we saw there… I can’t really describe it.” She shook her head. 

He’d noticed the man wasn’t there with them, but neither did he see Hytham so he’d assumed that Basim was off with his protege. “He’s dead?” He asked, demanded. Because if the man still lived he’d hunt him down and cut him open, let him die slow and painful. 

“He is.” She gave a nod.

“Good. Now eat and then your volva can look at this wound before you get some rest.” He urged her to turn and sit at the table to have some good food, she’d been living off basic rations for weeks. 

“I just got home and you’re already bossing me around. In case you didn’t notice, I just became jarl.” She wasn’t being smug about it the way a lot of people might. She just pointed it out candidly. 

He snorted. “Like I give a fuck about that. You need food and rest.” 

She leaned her side into him. “I have missed you, Ivarr.” 

“Of course you have.” He grinned at her. “Your trip was no doubt dreadfully boring without me along.” 

She chuckled. “I could use that rest,” she said after staring at the table for a moment. 

“Food first, Wolf-Kissed. I will force it into you if I have to.” He reached out and got her some meat, bread, and vegetables. It wasn’t a lot, not what he knew she would be able to eat when she wasn’t exhausted and in pain, but it was something, enough to hold her over in the case she slept for the next day. She also didn’t need whatever tea the volva would force into her without something already in her stomach. 

She ate about half the meal before just leaning into him and watching her clan, in particular her brother and his wife where they spoke in hushed tones, heads close together. When he urged her to eat some more, she didn’t even try. 

He stood up and pulled her to her feet and along toward their room. As he passed Valka, he motioned her to follow them. It didn’t take long for the volva to go fetch a tea for Eivor, though she felt the wound was healing well and wouldn’t need much attention. 

Ivarr waited until Eivor had her tea then he got her out of the rest of her clothing and into bed. Though before he could join her, Mouse had beat him to it. He put his hands on his hips and glared at the wolf. 

Eivor laughed. “He missed me.” She pet the wolf. “You’ve made him soft. He didn’t used to climb into the bed.” 

He snorted and shooed the wolf out of the bed and joined her. “If he’s soft, it isn’t because of me.” He pulled her into his arms. “Now rest.” 

She sighed as she relaxed against him. “I’m exhausted but I don’t know if I can sleep,” she admitted. “So much has happened.” 

“Then tell me.” If she talked about it, she’d have the burden shared if not lifted. 

“I’m not sure you’d understand. I don’t know that I understand.”

“We won’t know unless you tell me.” He insisted. He’d like to know what it was that was so confusing, to know what she’d gone through. Even if he didn’t understand, he’d know enough to tell her if it was worth dwelling on or not.

She sighed again but then began to talk, telling him everything that had happened in Norway, from the meeting with Styrbjorn all the way to the temple and her time trapped in the machine and then the fight with Basim. It was a lot to take in, and quite a bit of it was fanciful, but he knew she wasn’t lying to him. She’d been through a lot, and he wasn’t exactly sure what to say, at first. 

Finally, he settled on the most important thing, as far as he was concerned. “You came home, Eivor. You won against yourself, you won against Odin, and you won against Basim. You came back to what is important to fight another day.” 

“My faith is shaken. The gods…” She shook her head. 

“Maybe Valhalla isn’t real. Maybe we just… die. But maybe we don’t. Forget that temple, believe in what you’ve seen in our people, in everything that you’ve been part of in your life.” He didn’t like the idea that Valhalla might not be real. He had to believe that the spirit lived on, that there was more than just this life. But in truth, he fought for himself. He fought for his brothers and his father. He fought for his people, for his saga to live on after he was dead. He fought for Eivor and for glory and, in large part, because he enjoyed it. So while he might say it was for Valhalla, that was only a small part of it. 

“You’re wise when you choose to be.” She leaned up and kissed him. “You’ve given me something to think about.” 

“I don’t want you to think, I want you to sleep.” 

She chuckled. “I’m going to do that, too.” She pressed her face into his neck. 

“About fucking time,” he grumbled as he wrapped his arm around her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this is the 'ending,' it's really not. I've already started the first side story for this. It takes place almost directly after chapter three, and I can say that Ivarr and Dag are going to be butting heads. I haven't decided if Dag's fate will change; I can't say he's a favorite character of mine.
> 
> Also in the works are stories with Eivor paired with: Sigurd, Tarben, Basim, Rollo, Vili, and Ubba. I also have modern AU works for Eivor with Ivarr (of course, because how could I not) and Hytham. Little worried I might stretch myself thin, but I'm determined.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking of extending this a chapter or two with plot. 
> 
> And also, no one can convince me Ivarr actually did the thing. I've made up my mind. 
> 
> So if I extend this that will be reflected in the story.


End file.
